


you're my soulmate, put it up my ass

by kaermorons



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M, Mating Plugs, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaermorons/pseuds/kaermorons
Summary: Alphas don't knot anyone but their soulmates. Pretty cool, huh? Unmated omegas don't have to suffer their heats alone, thanks to a government program assigning alpha and omega couples together for their cycles. Nothing can go wrong, right?Or, 5 times Geralt and Jaskier fuck because the government set them up, and 1 time Geralt fucks Jaskier because Destiny set them up.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 93
Kudos: 903
Collections: Geralt x Jaskier, The Witcher Alternate Universes





	you're my soulmate, put it up my ass

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. There's mating plugs in this. Go google them, and then come back and read them in a sexy context. I'm putting this warning at the beginning because it's "not the norm" for a/b/o fics. Who am I kidding I've never written a consistent a/b/o in my life.
> 
> Enjoy.

“I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die.”

“You’re not actually going to die, you’re actually going to sign up for the registry and not tell your parents.”

“That’s worse than death! What will I say on winter break when I come home? I guarantee I’m going to come home, and I’m going to say ‘hello mum, hello dad, I spent the last six days bouncing on an alpha cock that’s  _ not attached to my mate,” _ Jaskier flops against the bed, groaning and kicking his feet like a child.

“You’re an obnoxious roommate. You know I’d help you if we were compatible. You’re being a brat right now though.” Yen sits primly on a chair, after vacating its previous occupant, the three-day-old laundry Jaskier swears he was going to fold.

“Well you’re a saint, is that what you wanted to hear?” Jaskier buries his face under his pillow.

“Just sign up for the registry. You can do it anonymously, so your name isn’t in any database your parents can find. The school registry still falls under FERPA.”

“Please never say FERPA while talking about sex.”

“Jaskier,” Yen intones, just the barest hint of the rumble of her alpha Voice lacing through the syllables. “You need to handle this. Or at least have a gameplan. Let the professors know, I’m sure you’ll be able to take more in one day or in the weekend before—”

“Pre-heat,” Jaskier points out, miserably. “Also, don’t Voice me, asshole.”

“Fuck, I forget you all have that.” Yen pats his back, rubbing between his tense shoulders with a sympathetic hum. She doesn’t apologize for her alpha abilities. “What’s the worst that can happen? All registry candidates get that free contraceptive plan and the other health benefits that come with it.”

“The worst that can happen? I spend a wonderful week with an alpha plugging me up, and that memory sits in my subconscious for the rest of my life, and I say  _ that _ alpha’s name in bed with my soulmate.”

“You are seriously overthinking this,” Yen says again, sighing and sitting down. “I can’t believe you haven’t had a plan for this before moving five hundred miles for college.”

“You’re not the only one. My parents didn’t want me to make a plan in writing. I’m still just mommy and daddy’s little omega for all they care.” Jaskier emerges from his pillow fortress. “This is so fucked.”

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna do it. I’ll sign up.”

“Good.”

“Will you come with me?”

“I’ll wait outside that lucky alpha’s house while you’re getting plowed inside, if you like.”

“Maybe stay in the car for that.”

* * *

The ping on his phone, the customary three days pre-heat email, gives him a profile.

_ G.Z. Rivia, 288B Morhen Lane _

The attachment on the message shows a bored-looking man, about ten years older than Jaskier, with white hair and strange light brown eyes Jaskier just can’t look away from. The phone number below it is a local area number, so Jas introduces himself.

_ Jaskier: I’m Jaskier, I got your profile from the registry. What time Monday works for you? _

_ G. Rivia: My name’s Geralt. I have work at 8 am M-F and I’m usually off by 3 pm. Whenever outside of that. _

Jaskier panics a little, because it’s his natural state. All his fucking finals are around 9 am.

_ Jaskier: morning work for you? _

1.

Morning works for Geralt.

Jaskier is half-asleep by the time Yen drops him off at the place on Morhen Lane, but his body is fucking ready to get mated and bred til his brains fall out. Gross. He’d already paid the registry service fee before showing up to Geralt’s place, the dumb $100 transaction going through with an annoying lack of hiccups.

“Bastards probably already took my money from my taxes,” Jaskier huffs.

“Probably. Write it off in April. Good luck. I’ll be back in an hour with breakfast. Call me if you need me faster.” Yen kisses his cheek and drives off, leaving him on a deceptively suburban street, with a goddamned  _ sidewalk _ of all things. He’d lived too long in the city.

He knocks on the door like how Geralt had said to, and the door opens instantly to…

Someone who is not Geralt.

The beta standing there is younger-looking than Geralt, with a wicked smirk and knowing eyes. “You must be the omega. Come in.”

“I uh. I’d rather wait for, um.”

“Jaskier?” a voice comes from inside, dripping honey-sweet and deep as the ocean. Geralt, undeniably Geralt, steps from behind the other man, meeting Jaskier’s eyes for the first time.

“That’s me. Geralt?”

“And I’m L—”

“Leaving me alone,” Geralt says, almost glaring at the man in the doorframe. The beta backs down, retreating into the still-dark house. “Come in, please. Is there anything you need from the kitchen?”

Jaskier is rather surprised by the clean state the house is in. It’s been  _ swept. _ It’s been  _ freshly Cloroxed. _ Someone’s lit a  _ candle _ at 6:30 in the morning. Jaskier wants to swoon, at least a little bit. “I’m fine, I’m gonna. I’m getting breakfast later, I mean.”

“Okay. We just have the paperwork and we can go upstairs.”

The reminder of his intended purpose here, at a stranger’s house at  _ six-thirty in the fucking morning _ sends a fresh blush up Jaskier’s neck, so he sticks to nodding. God, but Geralt already smelled nice. Did he shower before all this? Was it him that put the effort into all the cleaning and prepping for him?

Their signatures, one before the other on the same line, make Jaskier’s insides curl a little.  _ They look nice next to each other like that. _ Agreeing to this ‘union’ for all it’s worth. The paper goes into a special folder, with the local county’s seal on the front. Jaskier has his own on his desk back at home, ready for his own recountings of their mornings together.

As soon as Jaskier puts the pen down, he looks to Geralt. “I um. Hi, I suppose.” Jaskier bites his lip, a little unprepared for exactly how  _ big _ his assigned alpha is. Geralt almost towers over him, all harsh features and sharp jawlines and so beautiful he could faint. Almost, though. They’re nearly the same height, though his slimmer omega features pale in comparison to all of that alpha muscle.

“Hi,” Geralt says, amused by Jaskier’s nervousness. “This isn’t your first heat, is it?”

“No!” Jaskier bursts out. “I’m not a virgin. I mean I haven’t. I just. Uh.” He passes a hand over his face. “Maybe some water. Or coffee. I don’t know. This is my first...alpha-partnered heat?”

“Well, fuck,” Geralt says, pouring coffee. “Listen, I made my roommates swear this to secrecy, whatever. They’re not gonna bother us. We can talk freely. Have you taken at least a toy before?”

“I’ve taken a dick before, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jaskier says into his mug. It says ‘I Have Anxiety’ on top of a sparkly rainbow. Destiny.

“Well, okay, that’s unfair. Okay. In your previous heats, how long would you usually go? Typically getting plugged helps an omega for one full day of heat before they need another.” The way he talks about it, so casually, leaning on his kitchen counter, shouldn’t be as alluring to Jaskier as it is, but here he is, shifting his half-hard dick in his pants absolutely unsubtly.

“Six days, you already know that from my profile. Afraid you can’t handle me?”

Geralt doesn’t choke on his coffee, but it’s an almost thing. “Just don’t want you to need to resort to anyone else while we’re under contract, should you need it before then.” He waves a little at the folder of paperwork.

“I’m fairly certain I’ll last until you’re done with work, should your plug hold up.” Jaskier takes a sassy sip of coffee. How did Geralt know he liked his coffee black with milk?

“It holds up,” Geralt almost pouts.

“I’m sure. Why don’t we finish this and go test that?” Jaskier isn’t sure where this boldness comes from, but he is glad his instincts have his back, at least.

Geralt has the same idea.

They make it up the stairs, grabbing each others’ asses the whole way up, until Geralt leads him to the master bedroom. “Go on, get naked for me, omega. Wanna see you.” Geralt palms his dick through his pants. Jaskier rolls his eyes at the name. How primal.

Jaskier had arrived here in sweats, the rest of his clothes too uncomfortable to wear in his pre-heat. It’s not the sexiest striptease he’s given, but he’s been desperate for a dick up his ass since he woke up, sweating and needy and slicking all over the fucking place. Yen had been barely holding it together.

Geralt’s gaze grows darker as more of the omega’s skin is revealed, clothes shed carelessly to the floor. Jaskier’s prick stands flushed and hard, jutting out from his body. “Well? To your liking?  _ Alpha?” _ Jaskier smirks as a growl builds in Geralt’s chest, a needy, possessive noise Jaskier wants to believe so badly it tears a keening noise from his chest.

Geralt approaches, stalking forward with animal intent. He rests his hands on Jaskier’s waist, trim and smooth. He turns him, pressing that sweet omega body against his own. Jaskier whimpers and bares his neck instinctively, knowing they’d already agreed to no bites, save for the mating clause which no one ever pays attention to anyway.

(Jaskier would wish he had.)

Geralt gets him up on the bed, the covers formed into an ovoid shape like most basic nests are. In the absence of a full heat, Jaskier appreciates the safety it provides, sinking into its depths easily. The covers and sheets smell like Geralt, that heady alpha scent, along with whatever  _ delicious _ body wash he’s using. Jaskier bares his ass for the taking, going up on his knees. The alpha behind him chokes off a moan and pulls back, stripping rapidly.

Jaskier’s hand comes up to his slick-wet hole, rubbing enticingly, waiting to be bred up. Geralt groans behind him. “Fuck, wanna taste you, that okay?”

“Please,” Jaskier begs, wiggling his hips again.

Geralt’s hot mouth latches onto his ass, moans vibrating into his flesh as easily as breathing. Jaskier trembles a little at the feeling, the headrush taking him off guard. Fuck, Geralt’s tongue is doing some  _ sinful _ things to his behind, licking up the slick that’s been sitting on his thighs all fucking  _ morning. _ Geralt laps at him dutifully, his left hand squeezing at his hips, his right hand likely on his own prick.

Jaskier honestly expected this whole registry-match business to be more of a fucking  _ chore _ than it is. As he sees it, he got matched with an alpha that likes to give oral, and that’s better than most of the registry horror stories he’s heard. He shouts into the covers when a finger comes up to join Geralt’s tongue in  _ excavating his fucking asshole. _

“Listen not that I don’t like this, but please get your fucking cock in me,” Jaskier whines, smacking the bed. Geralt laughs, actually laughs, into his skin, and presses a kiss into his skin.

“Of course, as you wish.” Geralt gets onto his knees. “Didn’t know they’d give me such a bratty little omega.”

“Didn’t know they’d give me a  _ mouthy _ alpha.”

“Touché.”

Geralt pushes his own sweats down, all the way off, before getting between Jaskier’s spread legs, lining up with ease. The first initial press is breathless on both sides, a perfect slide home that ends in seeing stars. Gods, but was every registry match like this? Had Jaskier just not been fucked recently enough?

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Geralt grunts from above him. “I’m gonna treat you so right.”

“You fucking better,” Jaskier swears, tilting his head to reach back and hold himself open, immediately setting the pace, fast and deep. Geralt follows  _ obediently, _ giving him what he wants. If it weren’t for the alarm clock on the bedside, Jaskier would have through their first session had lasted  _ hours. _

In actuality, it’s just under an hour for their sex-addled bodies to get through, Jaskier coming all over the sheets twice before Geralt’s breath hitches, his hips stuttering once, twice, before slamming deep and filling him full.

It’s another minute before the second release, the plug filling him up and stoppering the come from leaking out. It should feel dirty, the impropriety of two strangers sharing an omega’s most vulnerable moment. All Jaskier feels is  _ whole, _ full, and fucking  _ incandescent. _

It’s nothing like what all the pamphlets and internet articles say. There’s the usual afterglow of sex, and then there’s  _ whatever happens when Geralt pulls out. _

Jaskier whines, thoughtless and moaning. Geralt swoops in, holding him close, still growling just a little and twitching from oversensitivity. Their sweat-slick bodies stick together, slide together as Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s unfairly-broad chest, and he feels more at peace than that one time with Yen’s best weed.

Even the shower after is a fucking daydream, all sparkling water droplets and soft touches. Jaskier comes back to himself, out of the heat-haze with his thoughts finally clear, when Geralt’s drying him off. The pressure of the plug in him, solid but comfortable, makes him blink hard. “Back with me, sweetheart?” Geralt asks.

“Don’t call me sweetheart. You haven’t bought me dinner.” Jaskier snatches the towel away and finishes drying off. Geralt’s expression is guarded, but he doesn’t quite notice. Or at least, he tells himself he doesn’t notice.

When Yen picks him up and asks how he is, he snaps that he’s fine, and doesn’t look her in the eye for a few hours.

2.

He already hates the six-in-the-morning wakeup call, two days into his heat. He flips through his statistics Quizlet cards as Yen drives to Geralt’s place. He frowns when they pull onto Morhen Lane, and pockets his phone. “He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”

“No, he’s frustratingly fucking gentle, and I—” Jaskier cuts himself off when he sees Geralt standing in the goddamn front yard. “Oh my fucking god. I have to go.” He almost doesn’t wait for the car to stop before he’s getting out.

“I’ll see you in an hour, I guess!” Yen calls, exasperated.

Geralt has a strange expression on his face. “You ready?” he asks.

“Coffee?” Jaskier says, trying to cut the tension between them. Geralt lets a breath out, looking around.

“I brewed a pot before you came over. Should be a cup or so left.”

They sign the paper, they drink their coffee. Geralt keeps a respectable distance away, stoically sipping hot coffee, black like he normally does. Jaskier already knows this. How does he already know this? He glares at his anxiety mug and the milky coffee inside it before speaking.

“Listen, I—”

“We don’t have to—”

They both cut off at the same time. Jaskier acquiesces, the  _ appropriate _ omega behavior. “Please, you first.”

“No, you.” Geralt holds his gaze, steady and revealing nothing.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but would you...would you want to do some foreplay? Before…”

Geralt’s already nodding. “What’s on your mind?”

“You seemed to like working with your mouth?” Jaskier grips his cup a little hard, just to feel the heat from the porcelain and not the heat building in his guts.

Geralt blushes a little, pushing his hair back. “You’re not wrong,” he says. “I uh. I’m not too good with words, so I’ve been told. Lot of my partners don’t like that.”

“Well, they’re fucking stupid,” Jaskier blurts out. “I mean. Um. Why would you judge a partner on one fraction of a relationship? That’s shallow. I think you’re perfect.” It’s just this side of too-honest that Jaskier has to also punish his tongue with hot, milky coffee. The silence is thick, but he doesn’t mind it, knowing Geralt is working the words over in his mind.

“Thank you,” he eventually says.

“What did you want to say to me? Before.” Jaskier lifts his gaze to Geralt’s. He curses the fluorescents in the kitchen for washing out the pretty golden colors in his eyes.

“It’s nothing. Are you finished?”

They walk side-by-side, but not as grab-assy as the day before. The tension feels like humidity, making the air thick and heavy between them. Even as Geralt closes the door to his room, Jaskier feels that tension like a paper barrier between them - breakable, yet detached.

Geralt is almost completely silent when he turns to Jaskier. There’s a pensive look in his eyes, one that doesn’t quite meet Jaskier’s baby blues. That golden gaze looks over the tee shirt and the sweats, the cute little socks Jaskier didn’t look twice at before putting on that morning. His hands, broad and warm, press down over the wrinkles in the shirt, sure and confident until the moment they meet skin.

“Can I kiss you?” Geralt asks. Jaskier wonders how anyone could ever fault him for a single thing out of his mouth. He nods, foolishly.

The press of their lips together feels like a lifetime of firework celebrations and warm summer evenings, cozy winter mornings, every season’s affection concentrated in one taste. Jaskier is almost instantly drunk on it, whimpering and leaning into him, the need of his body muting the throb in his chest, his heartstrings silenced by a stupid fucking need he’s fought for years.

Eyes closed, they fall back against the bed, twined together like vines meant to wrap around one another, meant to share the same air and sunlight together. Geralt’s hands take off his shirt, but his lips truly disarm him, leaving him bare though his body remains covered. The sheer dawn light in his room gives Geralt’s skin a soft pink glow Jaskier can’t stop looking at.

Geralt’s mouth - oh  _ fuck, _ Geralt’s mouth - wraps around his prick in an almost reverent circle of lips on flesh, and Jaskier loses time again, for the second time in as many days.

Even the breach of Geralt’s body into his is rapturous. They share breath, so close and almost electric together. The first time, he’d been facing away, but he can see Geralt’s furrowed brow now, the jumping muscles in his jaw as he struggles to keep control.

The pace, even, is slower, more subdued. Without either of them knowing it, they both savor this moment, deep and prolonged. Jaskier subtly shies away from the intimacy he so feared a week ago, until Geralt rolls them, putting Jaskier on top. It drives him deeper, touching places that make Jaskier’s vision  _ sparkle. _

It’s a delicate dance they share, both reaching for and pushing the same goal further away. Geralt looks at Jaskier’s dark circles and sees nothing but endearing qualities. Jaskier sees Geralt’s hesitance to take charge, and makes a heartfelt vow to keep this alpha safe, keep him close and satisfied.

Their releases and the plug that comes is on the tails of the only sounds they make, quickened breaths morphing into wanton noises and pleas. They lay together in that shimmering glow. Geralt’s never stroked an omega’s hair that’s been as soft as Jaskier’s. Even sex-full and heady, the scent in the room is undeniably  _ theirs, _ and Geralt doesn’t want to wash the sheets, wants to keep Jaskier here to indelibly remind the fibers that he was there.

Those wants and promises stay in heavy hearts as they wash, and as Jaskier leaves for his stats final.

3.

He’s still got a hazy mind when he drags himself into Yen’s car the third day. He’s remembering the happiness, the utter dazzlement in the air as he worked the night before. He couldn’t even feel the regular strain on his knees and feet, working in the 24-hour shop on campus. As such, he’s a bit tuckered out before things even begin.

Geralt hands him an utterly massive travel mug of coffee and milk as soon as he’s in the door. “What’s this for?”

“You mentioned you had to work last night. I figured you might need that extra boost. I can get the other mug for you if you prefer that…” He’s already drinking from it. “Ah. Well.” Geralt gets a happy look on his face, amused at Jaskier’s antics, at 6:30 in the morning.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says, gasping between long sips from the cup. His tongue darts out, catching an errant drop of coffee as it escapes along his upper lip. Geralt watches the action with a bit of hunger behind his eyes.

_ Right. _

Things go really,  _ really _ well that morning, the taste of coffee in their kiss as they rock together. Jaskier rides Geralt this time, rocking his hips in a slow motion up and down the alpha’s cock. His hands are planted on Geralt’s broad chest. Much like the day before, they’re almost completely silent, save for a few breathy moans and pleased grunts. Geralt’s hands roam all over his chest, just wanting to touch and  _ feel _ him everywhere he can. Jaskier doesn’t know why it feels more intimate than having his actual cock inside of him, but it makes him blush all the same.

When Jaskier’s close, Geralt makes a strained noise in the back of his throat. “Something feels weird. Can we switch?” Geralt looks apologetic and repentant already.

“Of course,” Jaskier pants. “How do you want me?”

Geralt’s voice catches, not quite letting the words out all at once. He clears his throat and starts again. “Me on top? Whatever’s comfortable for you. You’ve been putting stress on your knees and hips a lot.” The attention startles the omega a little.

Jaskier swallows and nods, rolling together with him so he’s covered entirely by Geralt’s body. The wave of safety and security that rushes over him takes his breath away. He can only look up, wide-eyed as Geralt pushes in again, taking his legs in his hands and fucking him into the sheets.

He can’t keep quiet like this, not with how Geralt’s slamming into his prostate with every thrust. “Fuck, gonna make me come, please, please, don’t stop,  _ alpha, _ please, I—” Jaskier and Geralt suck in a breath at the same time, realizing what he’d just said.

Their shocked looks stay on their faces when both of their orgasms take them simultaneously. Their scents mingle in the room, the sharp sweetness of Jaskier’s heat and the heavy musk of Geralt’s own scent. They groan loudly together and collapse as Geralt pushes the very last of his spend into Jaskier, testing to make sure the plug will form comfortably and securely.

“Gods,” Jaskier breathes, slinging an arm over his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’m not. I’m. Okay well I  _ am _ admittedly into some freaky shit, sorry, but didn’t mean to spring that on you—”

“It’s fine,” Geralt says quickly, rolling away before Jaskier can see the high blush on his neck and chest and cheeks. The tension in the room is fairly high, which, that fucking sucks, because Jaskier isn’t sure he can feel his  _ legs _ with how hard he came.

When Yen picks him up later, Geralt watches from the door, giving a wave that’s not returned.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up, man.”

4.

Geralt gets a frantic call at 3pm on the dot, right when he’s walking out of work. It’s Jaskier’s number. Icy dread fills his gut. “Jaskier?” he answers.

“I am. I. The. I’m so sorry.” Jaskier’s hyperventilating on the other end of the line.

“Jaskier, breathe, tell me what’s going on, do you need help? Is something wrong?” He’s holding his car keys in a tight grip, but his eyes aren’t focused, all his senses attuned to the omega’s voice.

“I don’t—I can’t calm down about this, and I—”

Geralt makes a decision he knows he’ll probably regret. He swallows hard and taps into his Voice.  **“Jaskier, take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”**

There’s silence on the other end of the line, and Geralt’s afraid he’s done something egregiously wrong for all of three seconds before Jaskier does as he says, and then again, until the shakiness is gone. “Thank you,” a timid voice comes from the phone.

“Can you tell me what happened? Do you need me?”

“I um, let me go somewhere quiet, hold on.” There’s a bit of noise as Jaskier presumably walks somewhere, before he speaks again, his voice a little clearer. “The plug fell out. It uh. Someone was fuckin’ following and pushing me and I kicked a trash can between us and it. Got loose?”

Geralt has to cut off the growl building in his chest before it gets too loud. Someone hurt Jaskier? His vision blasts alpha-red for a moment before he takes his own advice and calms. “How far are you from my place? Or do you need me to come get you? I have my car.”

“I c—” A bit of silence. “I can’t move around alot? I’ve got a...temporary solution, but I know it’s not helping. I’ve got like three alphas following me and my professor, he was just. Ugh. I’m so sorry, Geralt.”

“I’m five minutes from the main campus. Is that where you are?” Geralt gets his car started. “Can you make it to a nurse’s office or—”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Y-yeah.” Jaskier laughs nervously. “I might be locked in a bathroom right now.”

“Well don’t open it until you know it’s me. Text me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

* * *

It’s a two minute drive.

* * *

Geralt has to practically carry him to the car, Jaskier’s face buried in his neck for comfort until he manages to stop shaking. Geralt’s heard of plugs falling out under stress events, especially for omega athletes, but he’s glad Jaskier isn’t physically injured. He still spends no less than five straight minutes checking him over once they’re at Geralt’s place.

“Geralt I promise, I’m fine, I just have a scrape—”

“Why’d they push you? Who pushed you? They have laws against heat-concurrent aggression.” His frown is thunderous.

“It was just some guy, I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just...please?”

Geralt couldn’t deny him with those big blue eyes, heat-bright and almost glowing. “Come on.” Jaskier was already naked from Geralt’s exam, so he only had to gently lay him on the bed and—

Oh.

_ Oh. _

There’s something different about seeing Jaskier’s skin in the afternoon sunlight instead of the faintest rays of dawn. Geralt can’t help but trace the shadows from his window blinds as they pass along Jaskier’s ribs and hips. Jaskier bites his lip, already shivering and needy. Geralt thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, which—

Fuck.

_ Fuck. _

He manages to take care of his partner as quickly as possible, trying to rid him of any discomfort heat may have caused him. Yet, their kisses don’t taste like coffee. They taste like Jaskier’s bubblegum and sunshine and— 

He’s fucking  _ fucked. _

5.

Six-thirty comes the next day, their penultimate day together, with Jaskier barging in through the door almost as soon as Geralt’s opened it. The omega reeks of anger and frustration, though none of it is directed towards  _ him. _

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, following him into the kitchen. Lambert scurries upstairs, half-naked and not wanting to face the omega wrath barreling through. Jaskier takes the coffee mug he usually gets and pours himself coffee, downing it like it’s as necessary as a shot of whiskey. Geralt winces. “Uh. Please don’t burn yourself.”

“I’m so fucking.  _ Argh!” _ Jaskier doubles over, rage apparent in his posture and tone.

“Should we stay up here?” Eskel calls down the stairs.

“Shut up!” Geralt and Jaskier shout back.

“Jaskier, what’s going on? Is this…” he drops his voice. “Is this about yesterday? Did you want to reschedule?” He certainly hopes not. He’s been looking forward to their morning meetings more and more this week.

“No, I. I’m sorry.” Jaskier pushes his hands through his hair, looking heat-wild and frenzied. “Just. One of my professors is a mother _ fucking _ sexist  _ asshole.” _

“The one you told me about yesterday?” Geralt rubs a soothing hand up and down Jaskier’s bicep, grounding him here, and not in his anger.

“No, a different one. They… Gods, apparently  _ everyone _ on campus knows there’s a male omega on campus in heat and I’m the only male omega in his fucking  _ biology _ class and he sent me a  _ very _ passive aggressive email with the old song and dance of ‘you know, you legally have to tell me if you’re in heat’ bullshit, and—” Geralt hid his laugh in his coffee mug. It was a passable imitation of alpha Voice. He makes a sympathetic noise, letting Jaskier talk his frustrations out. “And  _ then _ he fucking emails me this morning saying he’s pushing my exam back to tomorrow morning, at fucking eight in the morning, which,” Jaskier makes a frustrated noise and a violent, angry motion. Had he not drained the coffee mug in his hand, Geralt’s kitchen would have been quite caffeinated. Geralt takes the porcelain as a precaution, though.

“Can you report him?” Geralt asks, concerned. Omega-targeted sexism isn’t usually much of an issue on college campuses, especially a more liberal college like the one Jaskier attends.

“No, he has fucking tenure and since I’m the only male omega in his class, they’ll spin it like it’s an individual treatment instead of, you know, the top of a very slippery slope.” Jaskier sighs.

“Would you mind if I scented you?” Geralt blurts out. “I mean. Fuck. Um. Might help. Fuck.” Geralt kicks himself and looks away, his own stupidity smarting this early in the morning.

“Actually, I think that’d help a lot,” Jaskier says after a moment. “You um. You Voiced me yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Fuck, yes I’m sorry, you were just so—”

“No! No, don't apologize. It really helped. I guess...I’ve always been a little afraid of myself...and others, about dynamic biology.” Jaskier scuffs his shoes on the ground. “Was always told I should keep my own Voice to myself, not even with my mate. Don’t try to Comfort, or scent anyone but family, none of that. So when you uh, when you Voiced me, I didn’t realize how...well, how nice it was.” Jaskier turns his smile up to Geralt. “So thank you. And yes, I think I’d like you to scent me.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Geralt chokes out, holding his hand to Jaskier. They climb the stairs hand-in-hand, and sit on Geralt’s bed, facing one another. “Are you sure you want this?” Geralt asks, nervous all of a sudden. Jaskier’s squirming a little, his heat a little subdued now that he’s on the tail-end of things, but still prominent in his scent.

Jaskier nods and holds his hands out to Geralt. Geralt smiles at him and arranges his hands. “I’ll only do it a bit. Some omegas are more sensitive to scenting when they’re in heat, and I don’t want to scare you.”

“Why would you scare me? You haven’t done it yet,” Jaskier jokes, grinning but staying still. Geralt lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and rolls his eyes.

When their wrists touch, it feels like the sight of Jaskier naked in the afternoon sun, stretched out on his bed, but bottled and concentrated and just for Geralt. He can’t stifle the happy noise he makes, almost inaudible compared to Jaskier’s surprised gasp. The omega’s eyes are closed, losing himself to the sensation as they sit still together, equal-exchange scenting one another. He doesn’t want to, but eventually, Geralt lets go and rubs his thumbs over Jaskier’s wrists.

Jaskier takes a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering open. His pupils have almost entirely eclipsed his irises, and his scent is absolutely  _ flooded _ with arousal. It’s a different scent than the wanton  _ need _ of being in heat, and a sharp contrast from the anger he’d walked in with just a few minutes ago. “You alright, Jas—”

Geralt’s pressed into the bedsheets, attacked with kisses and touches. Jaskier climbs on top of him, claiming as much as the omega can, licking all over him and covering him with kisses and nips that can mean nothing else but  _ mine. _ Geralt lets out a shocked moan at the thought, barely managing to throw their clothes off and in the general direction of the floor, though one sock manages to get smacked away by the ceiling fan. Geralt’s hands hold Jaskier firm as he grinds up and down on his cock, getting him harder than he thinks he’s ever been.

_ Tail-end of heat, my ass, _ Geralt thinks as he gets his hands between Jaskier’s thighs, pressing two fingers into his slick-soaked hole and opening him up. Jaskier’s whines of need are interspersed with snarls of lust, wanting to take and give all at once. “Shh, I’ve got you, you feral beast.” Geralt winks at him.

Jaskier comes back to himself for a bit, laughing. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he says.

“At what?” Geralt asks, tilting his head and smirking before adding a third finger right as Jaskier was going to speak. He moans instead and gives him a playfully-unimpressed look.

When he catches himself again, he plants his hands on Geralt’s chest. “When I start giving in to my biology, I go  _ all- _ in.” Geralt groans and kisses him again.

Jaskier finally sinks down on him again, and they moan into each other’s mouths at the feeling. “Fucking hell, you feel so fucking good, Jaskier,” Geralt rasps. “I’d do—”  _ anything. I’d do anything for you, _ he doesn’t say. “I’d do so many dirty things with you.” Better. Kinda sexy, but still a bit too close to the chest for comfort.

Jaskier rides him  _ hard _ now. “God, been thinking about your dick all fuckin’ night,” Jaskier rasps. “Surprised I can remember anything for my classes, when I’m pretty sure you plugged my brains up.”

Geralt grins and laughs, his heart leaping at the playfulness in his tone. He’s never been more comfortable with a partner, and it’s hard to understand why it hurts so much. He’s kept everyone at arms-length for as long as he can remember, and he thought the heat-match program would help him keep that distance while satisfying his biology. The only part he never seems to account for is his heart.

Jaskier, on the other hand, is letting himself have this, have this closeness and intimacy while he can, because he knows, in some sad part inside of him, that this won’t last. If he goes through the program again at his next heat, they’ll never get matched up again. Geralt’s too much of a catch  _ not _ to find his mate soon, and it pulls at his heartstrings to think about how much he  _ wants _ Geralt to be his mate. He wants to be Geralt’s, to wake up in this bed every morning and actually  _ meet _ his roommates while he’s not heat-crazy.

Their passion slows but doesn’t burn down. They look in each other’s eyes, memorizing and holding onto this moment, because while it’s not the last, they know it’s going to hurt less than tomorrow.

+1. 

Jaskier’s slightly more tired than usual when he shows up for his final day with Geralt. They sign the papers, they close the folders, they drink the coffee. It’s quiet, and fucking sad. “You have your biology exam this morning, right?” Geralt asks, his voice matching the same bluntness as their initial messages to one another.

“Yeah.”

“You look like you were staying up all night cramming. If you want, you can catch a nap after…”

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. I don’t have him next semester, which will be. Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“...”

“...”

“Let’s just go upstairs.”

It feels like a walk to the gallows. It’s so quiet, even devoid of the usual blood rushing through his ears, that he can hear Geralt’s roommates getting ready in their rooms. Jaskier takes his  _ time _ folding his clothes, setting them aside for...after.

“This is sad,” Jaskier says, turning to Geralt with eyes bright and tearful.

“It is sad,” Geralt agrees at once. “I uh. I’ve really enjoyed my time with you.”

“I’ve enjoyed you. I mean. Time with you. God, I can’t tell if it’s the heat or just you that jumbles all my words,” Jaskier smiles, biting on his lower lip. Geralt takes a step forward, cupping his cheek and freeing his lip so he can kiss the bite better.

Jaskier can’t help but lean into him, falling into the feeling all over again. His skin  _ hungers _ for the alpha’s touch, like sunlight, or air, or water. He’s in a midnight desert on Mars without Geralt’s arms around him. He kisses back with all he has. If this is to be their last morning together, they would make the most of it, sadness be damned.

Even the prep is slow and methodical, despite Jaskier’s tight schedule that morning. Geralt kisses his neck, tonguing over Jaskier’s scent gland and breathing him in like he could hold him there, in his lungs.

The first press in feels entirely new, like the first time. Jaskier gasps and kisses Geralt’s shoulder, holding on for dear life. He’s digging his nails in like he’s going to lose Geralt first thing as soon as the plug is there. At least he’d have at least a day of Geralt still with him after he leaves.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Geralt says. Jaskier’s eyes had filled with tears. “Does it hurt?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier shakes his head, making more tears fall. “I’m just a l-little emotional,” he gulps.

“Hey, it’s okay, me too.” Geralt gathers him up in his arms. “You’re gonna be such a good mate for someone out there, you’ll forget all about me someday.” Each word leaves his chest like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t want to let Jaskier go. Jaskier buries his face in Geralt’s neck to ground himself again, upset at the thought again. Bitter sadness laces through Jaskier’s scent, and he’s sorry to have been the reason for it. “Hey, look at me,” Geralt says. Jaskier pulls back and does as he’s told. “No reason we can’t still see each other until then. Let’s not make you sad before your last test, huh?”

Jaskier takes a shaky breath and nods. “Gimme all you got,  _ alpha,” _ he teases, a watery smile on his lips.

Geralt puts all he has into making this last experience the best of their week together. He knows he’s going to be fucking worn out by the end of this, but to be hearing the beautiful noises he’s pulling out of Jaskier, it’s worth it.

A strange feeling builds in his spine, like a pressure just behind his navel. It’s unlike any orgasm he’s felt before. Maybe his body knows something he doesn’t. He’s been with a few omegas in their heats, but nothing like this has happened. He looks down at his dick and his jaw drops.

“W-what is it?” Jaskier asks shakily. “Fuck ohhh _ hhhhh don’t stop…” _ Jaskier grunts a little and urges him back in. “Wait. What?”

Geralt’s still a little speechless. “I uh. Jaskier. I’m.”

“What is wrong with your dick? Why is it—oh my god are you—?!”

“I thi-think so?!”

“Fucking do it, Geralt!” 

“Knot you?!??”

**“YES.”**

The sensation is unlike anything either of them have experienced. The stretch and  _ fullness _ of the knot inside of Jaskier fulfills his heat-need more than any of their fucks that week have. Geralt’s never felt this kind of relief, connection and stunning beauty than this moment, right here. On instinct alone, they turn their heads to one another’s necks and bite over each other’s scent glands, sealing their mating bonds together.

When the fog lifts, Jaskier has his face in his hands, and he’s shaking with little sobs. “Jaskier?” Geralt asks softly. His bite is still bleeding sluggishly on his neck, but it takes second chair to Jaskier’s—his  _ mate’s— _ discomfort. “Jas?”

“I have a test in an hour and I’m st-stuck on your knot,” he wails. Geralt barks a laugh, and finds tears in his eyes as well. He’s not going to be alone. He has the most amazing mate ever, right here, crying on his dick. On his.

“Fuck. I don’t. You need to tell Yennefer. I’ll drive you to your exam, and—”

Jaskier just lets out a sob again. “You’re bleeding!”

“Yeah, we bit each other!” Geralt says, feeling his mate’s frantic heartbeat against his.

Eskel and Lambert burst in. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“Why is he crying? Geralt get off of him!”

“He can’t!” Jaskier shouts over Geralt’s shoulder.

“Oh my god Geralt do you have a  _ knot?” _

“Don’t laugh, it’s a beautiful thing, you fucking idiot.”

“His dick is like a balloon animal, stuck in an asshole, and you want me to  _ not _ laugh about it?”

**“Out,”** Jaskier growls in his Voice, holding Geralt closer. Eskel and Lambert zip off, closing the door behind him. Geralt wipes his tears away. He hopes none are for destiny’s choice of mate for him. “Geralt, are you okay?” Jaskier asks, turning his face to look at him.

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine,” Geralt promises, but he hesitates before kissing him. Jaskier has to meet him halfway, nipping at his lower lip. He still tastes a little of blood. They both do. “Fuck, I gotta take care of this…” Without jostling him too much, Geralt grabs a pillowcase and presses it to the bite mark on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“Geralt, I’m okay, I promise, it was just—”

“I know, I know, I’m really not the best at timing or words, and I made things worse, gave you a fucked-up plug yesterday and—”

“No, it’s not that, it’s—”

“I really didn’t mean to upset you, I understand if you write the commission and tell them I’m—”

**“Geralt Z. Rivia,”** Jaskier Voices. Geralt snaps out of his worried spiral.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry I cried. I’m under a bit of stress right now. I wish I’d reacted better. I’m more than happy to be your mate. I was...I was kind of crying earlier because I was upset that I wouldn’t be,” he admits.

“I was worried too,” Geralt says, kissing over the bite again. They rest a little. It’s still too early for this.

“I need to call Yen.”

* * *

Yen is more than accommodating, managing to congratulate them through her tears of laughter. When they finally untie, it’s with only fifteen minutes before Jaskier’s exam is supposed to start. They race through a shower and breakfast, and Geralt drives like a bat out of hell to the school, dropping him off with a kiss. As he disappears into the hall, Geralt whines. He doesn’t want to leave his mate.

He makes the rational decision to park in a faculty-only spot, and hang around the exam hall. It earns him exactly three visits by campus police, due to his dour expression and the scabbed bite-mark on his neck. He proudly draws himself up each time and explains that his mate is in there, and that the professor had been harassing him for his heat. Rather than try to remove Geralt from the premises, the beta officers walked off when he Voiced them to. He’ll deal with that later.

He calls his boss to tell him he’s taking a sick day, though he already knows what happened due to Eskel and Lambert’s fat mouths.

When students start filing out of the hall, Geralt’s heart leaps every time the doors open.

Jaskier finally walks out with a smug smile on his face that turns into a surprised grin when he sees Geralt. “You’re still here!” he exclaims.

Geralt scoops him up and spins him around. “Where else would I want to be?”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://kaermorons.tumblr.com/).


End file.
